Charade
by TheJavaGirls
Summary: The only thing keeping Regina Wentworth safe, was her careful masquerade she'd woven around her. How quickly it's unraveled, when a notorious pirate figures her out. If that wasn't enough to ruin her day, being forced on an adventure with a love stricken Will Turner was. [Will T./OC - Jack/Elizabeth]


A/N: Typically I can't stand OC fanfic. Most of the time I can't buy it. So with that said, I can't guarantee this will come out the way it's been looping inside of my head. I honestly don't hate Elizabeth Swan, but there may be a few times where it may come across in that manner. In the movies I loved Will and Elizabeth, and feel they were an awesome match. I am just having a little fun here, and hope you all enjoy.

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She detested Port Royal. Loathed the hot muggy weather that blanketed the island, weighing down on its inhabitants, making their clothing stick in the most uncomfortable places. Hated the rain and how it turned the road and pathways into a mushy pit of mud. Perhaps even worse, the residents were in the most part, crude and unwashed, while the soldiers and handful of the upper class acted well above their stations, as if they were royalty, when in all reality, were just as common as she was.

The sad part, was her life in this godforsaken corner of the world was monumentally better than what would have been available to her back in England.

It wasn't that the island wasn't beautiful, because it was. She just hadn't planned on being stuck on it for the six months longer than the three she'd anticipated. Time was most definitely not on her side, and if her circumstances didn't change soon, she was going to have to reevaluate her options.

Hurrying down the street toward the blacksmiths, Regina Wentworth readjusted the bundle in her arms, while ignoring the slow burning ache from the weight of her burden was creating. After another morning of heartbreaking disappointment, she had been more than eager to escape the hellish temperatures of the kitchens. It not only kept her face out of the way of the hung over cooks, but it gave her a moment's peace away from the jest her life had become.

Using her foot to nudge the wooden door of the shop open, she paused in the doorway, letting her eyes adjust to the dim interior. Where the temperature outside felt like the ninth level of hell, the inside of the blacksmiths seemed to be the infernal heating it. How anyone could survive working in such conditions?

Perhaps that was why Mr. Brown was currently snoring in the corner, a jug of spirits discarded at his side.

It was a relief to find the shop otherwise unoccupied, it made her task of dropping of the bundle of swords much easier. Scurrying over to the work bench, she relieved her burden, careful to tuck the note under one of the cords. Where she had no doubt Mr. Brown would never consider looking at the bench should he ever wake, Regina knew his apprentice Will Turner would be prompt with the needed repairs, and have the weapons returned in a timely manner.

"Can I help you?" At the sound of the voice coming from behind, Regina froze momentarily, and couldn't help but roll her eyes heavenward at his ill-timed arrival. Apparently it wasn't her lot in life to be graced by a merciful fate. Taking a moment to collect herself, she turned around slowly.

"Ah, it's you." Careful to keep her eyes lowered, Regina gave a simple nod, before pointing to the bench. His eyes moved in the direction she was indicating. "More swords? I can't help but wonder if the soldiers are aware they are weapons, not axes."

Her only answer was a slight shrug.

"So how are the cooks treating you?" His tone light, will headed to the work station and retrieved the note.

Regina bit the inside of her cheek, wondering why Will Turner insisted on this redundant path. He would carry on a conversation with her, knowing full well she wouldn't reply. It was the game he insisted on playing, and seeing how it kept her from the kitchens she allowed him to play it.

"I bet you all are busy preparing for Lieutenant Norrington's ceremony." Though she continued to stare at the ground, she could feel the weight of his gaze. If she were to break protocol and answer him, not that she would, she'd let him know what a complete and utter tosser she thought Norrington was.

"I've . . . I mean, my master was commissioned by the Governor to craft a sword, which will be presented." She heard movement, before a sword was being held out to her for her inspection. "It's rather a beauty, if you ask me."

Forced to lift her head a smidgen, Regina took in the long shiny object. As far as she could tell it looked like a sword, and perhaps if she were honest, the craftsmanship on the handle was somewhat pretty. She supposed a dandy like Norington would be more interested in how it looked upon his hip, than how efficient it could be.

"I was just about to deliver it to Governor Swan."

Ah yes, Governor Swan, the father of the most beautiful and perfect Elizabeth Swan. The object of Will Turner's heart. Stupid boy.

It wasn't that she disliked Miss Swan, truth be told she'd only seen her from afar. But Regina knew girls like her, heck, she'd been a girl like her, what seemed to have been a lifetime ago. Perhaps it was fair to say she envied Ms. Swan, of her ignorance to the hardships around her.

"Will you be at the ceremony?"

A snort escaped her mouth before she could swallow it, startling Will from his running commentary. The game had changed, not overly much, but enough to make him pause and stare, and that in itself was disastrous to the charade she'd built around her.

Knowing a quick escape would serve her best, Regina was finding it difficult to force her feet to comply. Instead, she stood there like the fool she was, frozen as Will Turner stared back. Her mouth went dry as the shocked expression melted off his face, while his eyes darkened over a pinched mouth.

"Did someone strike you?" The moment of relief she felt over keeping her secret safe, quickly vanished as he quickly moved closer and placed his fingers beneath her chin. His close proximity set off alarms, and she nearly escaped his touch if it hadn't been the barrel behind her blocking her path.

Panic seized her chest, as Will stared down at her split lip. Honestly, it was a minor injury. She'd learned long ago, to always be on guard, and ready to dodge the quick tempered cook's reach. It was the fate of the boys who were lucky enough to find room and board at the kitchens.

Jerking her head out of his light grasp, Regina was quick to put space between them. If all he saw was a young boy with a split lip, that was good enough for her. It meant her scheme was still intact. She would be rather put out, if her carefully executed plan was ruined by a minor thing like snorting at the wrong time.

Three years she'd lived as a boy. Forced to keep her hair above her shoulders, and tucked under an old cap. The tight binding around her chest helped with the disguise, as did the stained and tattered shirt and britches which hung from her like rags.

When she'd arrived on the island nearly a year ago, she decided it would also serve her well to play the part of a mute. Too many times on the voyage over, she'd been told how girlish she sounded, even when trying to deepen her voice. At first it had been difficult, finding work nearly impossible, until one of the other boys had taken her under his wing and got her a position in the barracks kitchens.

Too small to do any heavy lifting, she'd been put on dish duty. Washing and scrubbing the pots and pans, and when she wasn't doing that, was sent out on errands. If it wasn't for the high tempers which flared up in the blistering heat, Regina would have considered herself fortunate.

Of all people to slip up in front of, it had to be William Turner, Port Royals very own bleeding heart. By far, he was the only person she'd come across in this backwards island who had a sliver of decency. Where others of their position struggled just to survive, he seemed to live by some sort of honorable code. It was refreshing, but also dangerous.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" His soft concerned voice was a kick to the stomach, and no matter how much space she put between them, he seemed to keep closing the distance. "Perhaps I can speak with the . . ."

Shaking her head violently, Regina nearly shook the cap off her head. The last thing she needed, was for Will Turner to show up. She may as well paint a bulls-eye on her back.

"Surely there must be something I can do." Feeling her temper mounting, at his unwillingness to let the matter go, Regina edged closer to the door, and her potential freedom. She didn't need his pity. What she needed, was for him to go back to the little game they played. Where he would talk at her, while she stood there and listened until they both needed to return to their tasks. It was a simple game, with simple rules to be followed. Now he was ruining it by showing too much concern.

"Perhaps, I can help you find employment elsewhere."

Horrified at the thought, Regina was tempted to stomp on his foot. Perhaps then he'd stop insisting on helping her. True, there were probably better positions available, but she needed to be close to the soldiers, or her sacrifices would be for nothing.

Feeling her back up against the door, Regina let out a sigh of relief. Turning her back on him, she nearly had the door open, when his hand wrapped around her upper arm. "You don't need to live like this, let me help."

It had been a long time since anyone talked so kindly to her, and she hated Will Turner for reminding her of that fact. It nearly killed her when she was forced to be around him. Knowing he was the type of man she would've happily married, and settled down with. Kind and compassionate, qualities that were nearly impossible to find. But she was no longer that girl anymore, ironically to the world around her she wasn't even a girl.

Not wanting to hear any further nonsense, Regina jerked her arm free and flew out the door.

~P~

If Will Turner had been upset over a silly split lip, Regina wondered how he would feel about the black eye she'd been gifted when word of the feasts cancelation reached the kitchens. The beefy fist hadn't been meant for her, instead it was intended for the nervous guard who'd been dispatched to report the change to the head cook.

She'd simply been at the wrong place at the wrong time.

It'd taken her hours to wash the pile of dirty dishes, forced to endure the staffs grumbling at the unnecessary work. Personally, she thought the day's events were rather humorous, and if the gossip were true, Commodore Norrington was still waiting on an answer from Elizabeth Swan.

Out of anyone who deserved their ceremony to be crashed by a pirate, it was that long winded, self-absorbed, prig. Regina had found herself despising the man on their first encounter, when he claimed a mute had no business working near the fort. It was a good thing for her that the head cook disliked the man's haughty attitude just as much as she did, or she'd be out on the streets.

Left with one last chore, before she could turn in for the night and forget such a horrible day, Regina took the heavy tray and made her way along the stone corridor toward the brig. Seeing that the port didn't have a jail of its own, the fort housed the local criminals as well as any naval personal. Typically it housed an assortment of drunks, who seemed to sift through the cells routinely. Other times, such as now, it held suspected pirates, who were basically guilty without trial, waiting for their execution.

Nodding toward the guards, who were already halfway through their cups, Regina dropped the tray of food onto a table, before eying the hallway of cells. She hated this task, delivering food to the prisoners, who would just as well spit at her than say a simple thanks, and she'd learned early on that getting too close to the bars would only result in getting grabbed.

Tonight's crowd seemed to be split up into two cells, but it was the newest arrival that held her attention. The infamous pirate who'd single handedly ruined the Commodore's ceremony. He didn't appear to be overly concerned over his fate, as he casually lounged on the stone floor, his feet crossed at the ankles. It went without saying that he appeared to be as unwashed as the rest, but unlike the others he didn't possess an ounce of desperation.

Turning back to her task, Regina balanced three dishes of what could only be considered pig fodder, and headed to the furthest cell, ignoring the stupid ramblings from the inhabitants within. Keeping her distance she set the dished on the ground, a good two feet away from the bars, and used her foot to shove the food within their grasp.

Not caring if they retrieved their supper, or left it there for her to remove in the morning, Regina went to retrieve the last meal, feeling the pirate's heavy stare upon her back. It was rather unsettling, and she could feel the hairs on her arms rise as she returned with his food, and lowered the dish to the floor. Giving the bowl a hasty shove, she practically held her breath as she forced herself to keep from running down the hall.

"Boy." The voice held a certain perceptiveness, and Regina had half a mind to keep on walking. "A quick word."

Indecision numbed her mind, but seeing that it would be a one sided conversation she slowly turned as one of the prisoners chortled. "You aint getting nothing out of that lad. Boy doesn't talk."

The pirate seemed to take this in. "Really?"

Instead of speaking to her, the man eyed her shrewdly, his eyes roaming from the top of her filthy hat, down to the tips of her hole infested boots. A small smile spread across his lips. "That is all, you can be on your way."

The transgression was absurd, puzzling her into rapid blinking, until she noticed his fingers flickering her dismissal. Stunned, and a little embarrassed, Regina fled back to the kitchens, forgetting the tray in her haste.


End file.
